


The Things with Wings

by Alverick



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, mentions of torbjorn, nerding out with how Phara's armor works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 07:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10381452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alverick/pseuds/Alverick
Summary: Just a soft story of how I would think it felt for Angela to really fly





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a test run for me than anything else, first story here and all. This was something I wrote originally as a warm-up excercise and therefore is cliche, really fluff filled, and cheesier than a gosh darn mozzarella stick.
> 
> I did try to capture some Mercy angst, but probably failed. And also this takes place after the recall and Pharah joins overwatch, but as I'm reading it now it feels as if they never knew each other?? Which they did???

Even idle, there was a distant lull to the ship. Just a quiet, unending hum, resonating through the ship.  
Though, the silence wasn’t due to a lack of people, but rather a lack of people awake. I welcomed the change of pace, finding the peace and quiet just as invigorating as sleep would be. A good thing, as well, considering sleep was obviously not in my foreseeable future.  
Quiet as I could be, I walked through the narrow pathways, ensuring everything was where it should be, and everyone was okay and asleep. As I move forward, I move my hand outward, bare skin touching the cold metal. I felt almost naked out of my usual combat gear. But we were safely grounded within hanamura, where Hanzo had assured us we were safe. For now, he added, of course.  
I drew my hand back to me soon enough, not enjoying the almost frigid metal. I had other things to distract me, anyway. Such as the distinct sound of a welding tool.  
“Damn it, did Torbjorn sneak into the engine room again?” the last time he had done that, our autopilot kept trying to fly us to the moon, which was “An intentional design to test if this piece ah shit can withstand temperatures in the thermahsphere.”  
Needless to say, I picked up the pace and frantically entered in the access code. I was sure I changed it.  
“Torbjorn, it is thr- . . .”  
In the engine room, working on a combat suit with an elevated table, was actually none other than Fareeha. At least I assume so, considering she was wearing a welding mask and thick heat resistant gloves.  
She placed down her tools and flipped up her mask. “Ah, good doctor, what brings you here so late?”  
“N-Nothing.” I say, glancing away. Even grimy with oil and sweat, she had an air of elegance about her. “I was just doing a late-night head count. Tidying up a little bit.”  
“How kind of you, good Doctor.”  
“Please, Pharah, you don’t need to call me that each time.” I say, walking towards her.  
“Then I would ask you not to call me by my combat code-name, Mrs. Ziegler.” She says, smiling softly.  
“Oh god, Fareeha, that’s worse.” I say, cringing.  
“Alright, Angela.” She says, smirking. “We are not exactly strangers, after all.”  
“So what would you be doing, up so late?” I ask, glancing over the table. “And how did you even get in?”  
“Hana let me in.” That little- “As for what I am doing, basic maintenance on my suit. Unlike Hana, I am unable to generate or summon an endless supply of mech suits. This suit has been built solely for me, and I’ve become rather accustomed to the settings.”  
“Wow, I didn’t know you were trained in this sort of field of work.” I say. “We usually have Torbjorn or an automated system do the repairs.”  
“Yes, well, I wouldn’t trust that man not to attempt to slap one of his turrets onto me.” She gripes, though she was also correct. “And just as one who has mastered an instrument must clean it everyday, I must be the one to fix it. Lest our fangs become dull.”  
“That’s quite the devotion.” I comment, looking over her work.  
Her suit was connected magnetically to the surface, open and partially disassembled. There were so many circuits and wires I had no idea were even necessary for the armor.  
“Would you like to watch?”  
“Huh?” I look up, snapped out of my reverie.  
She laughs a bit. “Would you like to watch me perform maintenance?”  
“Y-Yes.” I say, slightly flustered that I had been so distracted. The downfalls of a curious mind. “But it all seems so beyond me.”  
“Oh, pfft.” She waves her hand, grabbing a pair of goggles and tossing them to me. “You are a smart woman, you will have no trouble at all.”

And so she gets back to work as I fit the goggles on me. It seemed that she was only welding small cracks within the armor closed, then smoothing them out with the magnet tool.  
“First is the cosmetic. Cracks. Dents. Dings. Usually from crash landings. Nothing that will kill, but it may lead to damage in the interior.” I nod in understanding, though she may not have even noticed, being as deep in her work as she was.  
Soon she moved on with a small electrode and visors. “Next is internal circuitry.” She reached over to the side of my face, and I will admit I felt rather nervous.  
Until she pressed some button. “Uwah!”  
“Oh hush.” She says, that damn smirk back. “These visors are linked to the suit, it will visibly show if the sensors fire off.”  
“What’s the point of that?” I ask as she hovers the electrodes over the seat, making it glow through the goggles.  
“The suit is designed to take external stimuli, transfer that into an electrical signal, and relay that directly to my nerves.” She sees me grimace, and smiles. “It’s not like it sends pain, just a jolt so I understand where an attack is coming from, though I appreciate the concern.”  
She takes a few small tools and fiddles with the interior before checking again with the electrode, somehow satisfied with the response.  
“And next is the flying mechanisms.” She says, pulling up a holographic monitor and rotating the chest piece, sliding the rest away. “These actually work slightly like yours.”  
“Really?” I ask, surprised.  
“Well, in the fact that for hovering, descending, and stabilization, they use heat and convection, generating lift for themselves. Other than that, they are small jet engines.”  
“Oh . . .” I say, watching as she moves them around, checking for any malformations or malfunctions.  
“Your wings are actually quite fascinating, Angela.” She says, grabbing some of Torbjorn’s special lubricant. I guess he was right about the thief. “I have only seen them a handful of times. Though I have not been here long.”  
“They’re nothing special.” I say.  
“Bullshit.” She says, though I was a bit taken aback by her vulgarity. “They capture, energize, and solidify photons to both increase reach, as well as generate the heat for lift. No energy source needed. Though they lack thrust.”  
“Yes, it consumes quite a bit of energy.” I say, a bit flustered that she had been so observant. I didn’t expect someone so proficient in combat to be equally so mechanically. “It’s why I only use it to fly to my comrades. Otherwise it would use up my power cells and . . .”  
“Your biotic stream and instant resuscitation device, which most likely take thrice as much energy, would not function.”  
“Yes . . .”  
“It’s a shame. Having wings and not being able to fly . . . it seems sad.”  
“Oh, to be honest, they were Winston’s idea. He thought it’d be nice to have me be the guardian angel of Overwatch.”  
“I can see why, you are very reliable.” She says, lowering the table and having a few automatons retrieve the suit. “But would you like to?”  
“Like to what?” I ask as she takes off the gloves and visor.  
“Fly.”

 

* * * *  
“I’m not sure this is a good idea.” I say as we climb through the hatch leading to the top of the ship.  
“Of course it is. You were not planning on sleeping soon, no?”  
“O-Of course not, but what if we’re shot down, or something?”  
“Do not worry.” She says, climbing through before reaching down to me. “I will protect you.”  
I gulp, I grab her hand, and I’m pulled into the cold night air. Hanamura was beautiful at night, with all the city lights still glimmering.  
For the sake of time, Fareeha had only donned her wings and chest piece, and I only put on my wings. Of course that meant my entire body suit, and my biotic staff, just in case.  
“Sadly I am not capable of indefinite flight, but I hope this will be enough.” She turns to me, eyes glimmering. “Are you ready?”  
I nod, giddy at the prospect of actual flight, even if only for a few seconds.

And without warning, she started running for the edge, me trying to quickly follow before she took off.  
She propelled herself high in the sky, further than I could ever normally reach, but locking on, I was at least able to glide up to here.  
My stomach turned as I quickly rose over the edge, racing towards the now hovering Fareeha, smiling and reaching out for me.  
And I grabbed her hand, holding my breath as I willed myself to simply hover for now.  
“Haha! How do you like it?” she asks, pulling me forward along with her.  
“It’s . . . nerve wracking.” I say, looking down. It didn’t take a doctor to understand a fall from this height would kill you. Or physically disable you for the rest of your life due to best-case-scenario spinal injuries.  
“Then don’t look down!” she says, reaching to my cheek and raising my face up. And it was only then did I see her bright smile.  
All this time, she was so serious, with only a grin or smirk at best. But right now, dozens of meters high up, she was smiling like a fool.  
She lets go of me, dashing upwards, as high as her wings could take her, and I went right after her, wanting to see that expression, if only just a little bit longer.

And once again, she looked down to me, beaming like the sun, face lit up by the low hanging moon, as happy as could be.  
It was as if the entire sky was her domain, and she was finally home. That she was only free when up in the heavens. And flying with her felt amazing. It was liberating, as if all my worries could never touch me. As long as I was in the air with her.  
“Angela!” she called out, though I wasn’t very far away.  
“Yeah?!”  
“Are you having fun?!”  
“Yes!”

And hearing those words, she somehow smiled even more.

And I felt myself dazzled by this woman. This airborne warrior.  
It was just as frightening as falling, really. Because in that moment, I know I would have done anything to protect that smile. To protect her.


End file.
